The Angels Next Door
by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: Identical twins Castiel and Jimmy Novak have never had a normal life. With fallen angels for parents, the reincarnation of an archangel for an older brother and some seriously pissed off angels hunting their family, life has not exactly been easy. New to town and with Winchesters for neighbors, Cas and Jim have no idea how they're going to survive the year, much less high school.
1. Chapter 1

**The Angels Next Door**

**Author's Note: A note about this AU…there are some drastic changes to canon. For one thing, I kept Mary Winchester alive, because it just worked better… the Winchester hunter-origin story is still the same, Mary caught a demon in Sam's nursery but in my AU she temporarily excorcises him and the family flees Lawrence and start hunting again as a family to protect Sam. Why I kept her alive will make more sense later in the fic…or not…whatever happens happens. Also, in my AU Adam is Mary's son as well as John's, it just made more sense with the way I have things set up. **

**There is a bunch of other stuff that is different, but I have to assume you read that in the description or will read about it later in this first chapter, so yeah…please enjoy this interesting little AU! **

**Bunker, Kansas **

**Population: **191,114 humans, 2 fallen angels, 4 almost-angels, and 5 Winchesters

**Welcome to our city, please try to survive the experience.**

The Novaks moving into 66 Nevaeh Drive was easily the most interesting thing that had happened all summer long. According to one young twelve-year-old by the name of Sam Winchester, that summer could be summed up in one sentence: "Yesterday was Tuesday, but today is Tuesday too." The rest of the Winchester family, not to mention all the other residents of Nevaeh Drive would have to agree with that statement. This summer was one of those lazy, slow summers that just sort of trickle by without anything important happening or being accomplished, leaving those who had experience such a season vaguely disappointed and disgruntled when fall begins to tint the leaves on the trees. As if such a glorious season as _summer _was obligated to bestow at least _one _important or at least mildly interesting event upon those who bothered to stick around long enough to endure the season in all its glory.

Unfortunately for all the thrill-seekers, rebellious teens and bored housewives of Nevaeh Drive, and, indeed the rest of Bunker (a town so small that boredom spread like a disease and news of real importance was so scarce that the newspaper was forced to use half of its volume for letters to the editor and another fourth for advertisements just to justify the printing of daily editions) this summer was shaping up to be a particularly molasses-like one. It was already mid-July and the most interesting thing to happen was Garth Fitzgerald IV accidentally running over Bobby Singer's dog… again. (It is important at this point to note that that was not the most interesting event to happen to _Bobby Singer _over the course of that summer. The most exciting thing to happen to Bobby had a bit more to do with werewolves and a bit less to do with Garth's terrible driving. However, as far as the town of Bunker, Kansas knew, werewolves looked like male models and spent all their time pining after pasty girls in tiny towns in Washington, and therefore were not a concern in the more 'civilized' state of Kansas.)

Needless to say, Bunker's residents were itching for some new gossip. Or at least some new faces to gossip about. This was where the Novaks came in.

The Novaks would have been the most interesting thing to happen all summer anyway, just by virtue of being new and different in the middle of a gossip-drought. They could have been as boring as toast and still caused a bit of a stir. However, the Novaks would not dream of being as boring as toast any more than 16-year-old Dean Winchester would dream of going a day without pie. No, the Novaks were bound and determined to be interesting before they even set foot in Bunker, Kansas. It was their destiny and they were quite willing to step up to the plate and fulfill it. After all, prophecy-fulfillment was something of a family tradition.

They appeared one Tuesday in July (at least everyone seemed to think it was a Tuesday, but after all, yesterday could have been Tuesday as well and no one would have bothered to notice). The Novaks did not 'move in'. They _appeared. _One day 66 Nevaeh Drive was empty, an older pseudo-Victorian house that had been for sale ever since the original resident decided (mistakenly) that the Winchester family next door were obviously either religious freaks or devil-worshippers or both. Unable to cope with the bizarre symbols the Winchesters painted throughout their house (honestly, if the neighbor hadn't been nosily spying on them through the window, this never would have happened) or the rumble of John Winchester's massive truck pulling in and out of the driveway at all hours of the morning and night, the neighbor listed her house as 'for sale'. Dean Winchester getting a driver's permit and exclusive access to the classic Impala and its powerful stereo system pushed the neighbor over the edge. She found a rental across town and attempted to sell her home from afar.

Needless to say, this seriously crippled her efforts to get rid of the house and all it represented. It had been nearly a year and the other residents of Nevaeh Drive were taking bets on how long the house would just sit there when the Novaks appeared. One day the 'FOR SALE' sign was proudly stuck in the turf of the somewhat-wilted-with-neglect front lawn and the house stood; a dusty ode to emptiness. The next there were two cars parked in the driveway and the sign lay uprooted from its solitary post, forlorn and abandoned in a front yard now being busily watered by a sprinkler. No one ever saw a moving truck. But they did see people and that was enough for the locals to begin to talk. And talk they did.

"They seem nice enough," Mary Winchester observed, peering out the window as she stood at the kitchen sink, washing strawberries for pie.

"Damn suspicious, though," John grouched from the breakfast nook, "Just showing up in the middle of the night."

"John," Mary reminded him gently, "_We _showed up in the middle of the night."

"How'd they move in, anyway? One day it's empty the next they're just _there_? Damn suspicious," John appeared to be determined to be grumpy about it.

"We didn't have a moving van either."

"We had duffle bags!" John looked indignant, as if he couldn't believe Mary was disparaging the honor of the noble duffle bag.

Mary sighed and shook her head, "Maybe they're like us."

"Hunters?" he snorted, "I doubt it, have you seen their cars? Wouldn't last five minutes on a hunt."

Mary sighed, "No, just… different."

"They can be as different as they want so long as they aren't eating people."

"That's the spirit, John. Open-minded and accepting," Mary said with serene irony.

John peered at his wife over the edge of his newspaper, sure that she was poking fun at him, but not quite sure how to bring it up. She tossed him a wicked grin over her shoulder and that settled it. He set the paper aside and walked up behind her to put his arms around her waist and settle his chin on her shoulder, watching the not-so-empty house next door just as attentively as his wife was.

"This should be interesting," she observed.

He grunted in agreement; then changed the subject, "So when will the pie be done?"

Meanwhile, the Winchester children were being a bit more proactive in their pursuit of information on their new, mysterious neighbors. They stood outside in their own driveway, observing 66 Nevaeh Drive with varying levels of intensity and interest. "I bet they're ghouls," Adam, nine years old and possessed of a somewhat morbid imagination, guessed, hands and arms covered in chalk as he doodled on the pavement.

"They're not ghouls, Adam," Dean, sixteen years old and very much in charge, told him, not bothering to look up from washing the Impala in front of him. He had a way of making the scant words sound much less like a reassurance and much more like and order.

"You don't know that," Adam reminded him.

"We'd know if they were ghouls, Adam," twelve-year-old Sam's voice was much gentler and more reasonable-sounding than the elder Winchester boy, as he looked up from his thick paperback book. However, gentleness lent itself to uncertainty and like all small children; Adam picked up on that right away.

"Mom and Dad said that ghouls are real and that they look like normal people. They could be ghouls, Sam!"

"They're not ghouls!" Dean barked.

"Prove it!" Adam demanded.

Dean threw his arms in the air and proceeded to ignore his little brother. He knew it was a mistake to attempt to explain hunting to him so young. All it had really done was give the youngest Winchester an over-active imagination and get him in trouble for drawing 'disturbing and disquieting' pictures in art class.

"_Dean._" There were only two creatures on the face of planet earth that could make his name sound like _that. _One was Sammy and the other was the little guy standing with his arms folded in front of him in a sloppily approximation of Dean's current posture.

"Prove they're not ghouls," Adam demanded.

"How is Dean supposed to prove they're not ghouls?" Sam asked, reluctantly looking up from his book yet again.

"Ring the doorbell."

"And how is that supposed to prove anything?" Dean demanded.

"You'll talk to them and if you come home un-eaten they're not ghouls!" Adam sounded very proud of his reasoning.

"That is the stupidest-ass plan I've ever heard," Dean was not one to mince words.

"Dean! You're supposed to be the responsible one!" Sam chastised, grabbing a sudsy sponge and throwing it at his brother's head.

"What?"

"Watch your language!"

Dean furrowed his brow and peered down at Adam, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nope!" Adam smiled up at him, "You always say your plans are stupid-ass plans so I think that means mine's pretty good."

Dean could _sense _Sam face-palming somewhere behind him.

"Okay, that's not really how it works, but we'll let it slide," Dean hedged, "I'm still not ringing the doorbell."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Oh." Adam was disappointed. 'I don't want to' was older-brother law. It meant that Dean really wasn't going to do it and couldn't be talked into it. It was very disappointing.

"But you know what you _could _do?"

"What, Dean?" Adam was back to being puppy-dog excited. Sam suppressed a snicker.

"You and Sammy could play spy, do some research-gathering, just like a real hunt."

Sam's "Wait, why am I a part of this-?" was drowned out by Adam's excited exclamation.

"Yes! Awesome! Come on, Sam! It'sstakeout time!"

Sam grumbled under his breath and let his little brother drag him off on their fictional adventure, trying to ignore the sound of Dean laughing somewhere behind him.

After several hours of observation, many of which Dean ended up getting roped into participating in, much to his dismay and Sam's satisfaction, they had determined several facts about the Novak family. One was that they were remarkably difficult to observe. The only times the Winchester kids caught sight of their new neighbors was when one person was alone. This one-by-one system was frustrating for all three of them as it prolonged the time they had to hide without getting caught and mean they only ever saw a member of the family in isolation. Another fact the Winchesters managed to gather was that there were two adults about the same age as John and Mary living in the house as well as three or four children. The reason for the confusion on number of children was the result of an argument between Dean and Sammy (an argument that, theoretically, would never had happened had they been able to see more than one family member at a time).

"They are so identical twins."

"Dean, that's ridiculous. How many identical twins do you know?"

"Two, right now: Trenchcoat and T-Shirt."

"You've _nick-named _them? Dean, they're the same person! He just keeps taking off the trenchcoat and putting it back on again while out of the room."

"Why the hell would anyone do that?!"

"Dean, language."

"Sam, stop being a girl."

"Dean, seriously, why would anyone wear a trenchcoat in the middle of July, anyway? He probably keeps taking it on and off cuz it's more comfortable without it."

Dean was clearly not buying it.

"Fine, I bet you ten bucks it's the same guy," Sam challenged.

"You're on! They are so identical twins!" Dean grinned, sure of his victory. Sam rolled his eyes at him.

Beyond that one sticking point, they got a good look at most of the family, even if it was normally only one family member at a time. The mother and father seemed normal enough, her with reddish-gold hair and bright blue eyes, him with darker, close-cropped hair and muddy brown eyes. Both were of a slim but lean build, the mother a tiny woman who was dwarfed by her average-sized spouse. They oldest son looked about a year older than Dean but had inherited his mother's diminutive height. His hair, golden brown and a bit too long, flopped everywhere as he bounced from task to task, constantly sucking on a lollipop or devouring some other piece of candy. His energy, doubtlessly amplified by the massive amounts of sugar he was consuming, appeared to border on manic. The youngest child was a girl of around Adam's age with pale blue eyes and deep red hair. She followed her older brother around, mostly appearing to be some sort of lackey to the higher power that was 'big brother.' Finally there was the mystery child (of children, if Dean was right about there actually being identical twins involved). Slim and lean, but taller than the eldest, this kid (or kids) appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen, with perpetually messy dark hair and (in the case of one 'twin') an ever-present trenchcoat.

"Well they seem sort of normal," Adam finally admitted, relieved that they hadn't shown any overt signs of ghoulish behavior.

"Told you so," Dean ruffled both his kid brothers' hair, one with each hand. "Come on, let's go see if Mom's done with the pie."

Meanwhile, little to the Winchesters' knowledge, another set of siblings were talking about them.

"They seem sort of normal." Jimmy Novak (the twin without the trenchcoat, Dean was right about that), said hopefully, watching the three neighbor boys race each other to the house.

"I _know." _Gabriel whined, tossing a handful of Skittles into his mouth, "This whole place is so _boring._"

"I like boring!" Jimmy said indignantly, "You would too, if you were psychic. Boring equals no depraved inner thoughts."

"Oh, you poor human child, you really need to watch more horror movies," his older brother tsked at him.

"I do not understand the point of horror movies. They are not horrifying. They are either stupid, full of stupid people, or displaying anatomically incorrect amounts of blood and internal organs at inopportune times." Castiel, the trench-coat-wearing twin furrowed his brow at his brothers.

Gabriel sighed, looking up at the heavens in a blatant plea for salvation from his houseful of uncultured siblings.

"They've stopped snooping!" Anna announced from her perch looking out the window, snapping the blinds closed.

"Thank God!" Gabriel sighed, "I can finally let my wings out, all that warding that was hella uncomfortable." And without further ado, the oldest Novak yanked off the silver watch around his wrist decorated with Enochian symbols and unfurled six golden-feathered wings.

Castiel took removed his own watch and snapped his two inky black wings out of concealment, shaking out the feathers with a small sigh.

Anna and Jimmy shook their heads at their winged siblings, sending little thoughts and impressions of the two mind-to-mind. Suddenly, Anna sat up straight and stared at Jimmy, her frosty blue eyes wide, "Do you think anyone here knows about Mama and Daddy? Are the bad angels going to come for us again?"

"No, kiddo," Jimmy reassured her, tugging her into a one-armed hug, "The bad angels aren't going to come for us again."

"This town probably hasn't even _thought _of anything supernatural, much less fallen angels. No one's going to think Mom or Dad is a fallen angel."

"But they _are _and that bad angel said it was _obvious._"

"Only to ass-butt bad angels," Castiel reassured her with a grave look unsuited to his teenaged face.

"Okay," Anna snuggled her head into Jimmy's side. "I just want to be safe. I don't want us to be hunted anymore."

"We won't be," Jimmy stroked her hair. "You'll see. We'll be safe here."

**Author's Note: So what did you think? I'm happy with this chapter and have a bunch of plans for this story, so look out! I'll be updating at some point! (That's a little joke cuz I don't always update super-consistently…heh, heh…) BUT, reviews do help me update more regularly…hint, hint. **

**Also, a brief note on the street name, the name 'Nevaeh' is 'Heaven' spelled backwards. The house's number is, of course, a reference to the 66 seals from season 4. **

**Please review! See ya next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Jailbirds of a feather flock together…or something like that…**

_Bunker, Kansas, a few weeks later…_

Being the sheriff of a town like Bunker, Kansas was a bit like being the King of Purgatory. Boring with the occasional sporadic fit of violence. No matter what was happening there was always an overwhelming sense of _anticipation _about the job. Sheriffs had spent entire careers _waiting _for something to happen. For that one big case. THE big case that would define their career and reassure them that all these years as small-town law enforcement were worth it. Unfortunately for these positive-thinking individuals, that case never really materialized. Bunker continued to be disgustingly crime-free and peaceful. Utterly and completely tranquil, like something out of a fifties sit-com where the most profane word uttered was 'gosh dangit'.

It was very frustrating for Sheriff Danish.

That redoubtable fellow was spending a lazy summer Tuesday reading the newspaper for the second time that day. (One of the other drawbacks to having a crime-free city is the complete lack of interesting news stories). When his desk phone rang. He almost didn't answer it he was so surprised. He spent a good thirty seconds staring at the device in mildly reproachful shock as he pondered the implications of a phone call to his office on a Tuesday in the summer. Somewhere, after months of crimeless boredom, someone was breaking the law. The concept was truly thrilling.

As it was, he scooped up the handset and pressed the 'talk' button. "911, what's your emergency?" he asked gruffly, trying to sound official. He immediately yanked the speaker away from his ear as if the voice on the other end had scorched him. In a way, they had. That tone was quite scathing.

"Hello? Yes I can hear you, Mrs. Masters, very clearly," the sheriff interjected, "Now if you would just stop shouting you might actually make sense. Mrs. Masters! Stop shouting gibberish at me! That helps no one! Now, what's your problem?"

There was a pause on the sheriff's end of the line as the woman shouted a bit more before pausing long enough to give him room to respond.

"It's not _your _roof, is it, Mrs. Masters? No, then why are you concerning yourself with the Winchesters' roof? No, it is _not _your duty as a member of the neighborhood watch. Yes, raccoons are a problem. Not a _criminal _problem, but a problem."

Another pause.

"MRS. MASTERS, PLEASE TRY TO MAKE SENSE, ALL THIS SHOUTING IS COMPLETELY UNECESSARY!"

Another pause.

"What do the Novak boys have to do with raccoons or the Winchesters' roof?"

More gibberish-shouting.

"So, let me get this straight, the Novak boys are disturbing the peace-? No? Vandalizing-? No? What crime are they actually committing, Mrs. Masters? All you've done so far in this conversation is shout about the Winchesters' roof, raccoons, the Novak twins and Cheez Whiz… THERE WERE FIREWORKS INVOLVED? Fine, I'll be right there. Maybe a few hours in a cell back at the station will help them to straighten all this out. Yes, I'm _sure _I'll see you there, Mrs. Masters. _Goodbye._" And with that Sheriff Danish strode out to his car to do arrest Jimmy and Castiel Novak, secretly extremely excited that for the first time that year he'd be able to use the sirens.

* * *

Dean Winchester was well-known and not particularly well-liked on the roadways of Bunker, Kansas. At least that was the law enforcement's official stance on the issue. Secretly, the two deputies stuck with road patrol loved him and his many speeding tickets. Chasing down Dean Winchester and trying to stick him with a ticket was considered to be such an exciting honor that they actually often did rock-paper-scissors to decide who got to drive.

This day in late August was no different. While the Novaks were getting corralled by Sheriff Danish, Dean was being actively pursued by the Deputies. They were known throughout town as only 'the Deputies'. This was partly because they looked so similar they could be each other's stunt doubles in an action movie (despite not being related in any known way) and because one of them actually had the last name 'Deputy'. The other one was called something ordinary like 'Smith' or 'Jones' or some other name sufficiently commonplace to guarantee that it would be cast aside or properly forgotten in the face of the opportunity to call its owner by a more interesting moniker.

Dean had been driving Sammy home from Math Camp (the kid was a complete nerd, in Dean's opinion) when the chase broke out. Now he was pulling over, ordering Sammy out of the car, "Go, you know the drill, get home before they catch up enough to spot you."

"Dean…" Sam had that look on his face, the bitchy one that said he didn't want to leave his brother behind to face the law and a possible sojourn in the town's single holding cell should the eldest Winchester decide to get mouthy.

"_Sam, _go home. If I'm not back in half an hour-."

"Get Mom to go down to the station, I know the drill."

"Good man, now get lost."

"Jerk," Sam grumped as he slid out of the passenger seat.

"Bitch," Dean sing-songed as he watched his kid brother leave before slamming the car into drive and speeding away.

Sam shook his head, resigned to his brother's antics before beginning the ten-minute trek back to their house through the stretch of scrubby woodland between the main road and Nevaeh Drive.

Thirty minutes later, Mary Winchester was heading down to the police station, Sam and Adam in tow.

* * *

"I am never letting Gabriel talk me into anything ever again. Ever. No matter what the bastard says. Never."

"You have reiterated this point several times, James."

"We're in JAIL, Castiel!"

Castiel Novak glanced around the cell they were sitting in. As far as holding cells in small-town police stations went, it really was rather nice. The walls were painted a pleasant beige only a tiny bit vomit-like in color and the bars were a nice dully glinting iron gray. The old ladies of the town, in a fit of sewing prowess, had crocheted several dozen doilies for the station. How a station would use doilies, no one was quite sure, but the Deputies didn't have the heart to reject the offer of knitwear. Little did they suspect that Sheriff Danish had a crippling phobia of all things lace. The end result of the Great Doily Debacle was that all of the knitted monstrosities were draped all over any available surface in the holding cell. All and all it provided a lovely, mildly bizarre and moderately threatening atmosphere for the recently incarcerated.

Castiel could sympathize with Sheriff Danish. Knitwear in that volume was most disquieting. The teen was currently huddled on the floor, trenchcoat pooled around him as he systematically unraveled an innocent doily while his twin paced the cell.

"I can't believe Gabriel didn't get caught, too. It was his stupid plan," Jimmy grumbled.

Castiel pondered the implications of commenting at this point, finally coming to the conclusion that it was a lose-lose situation. Responding to his brother would just fan the flames of the other boy's bad mood while ignoring him would bring him the exact same result. Realizing that no matter what on-topic phrase he uttered, it would all be linked back to Jimmy's displease at their recent incarceration, Castiel chose to ignore their situation and say the first thing that came to mind.

"The woman who created this doily was not particularly skilled. There are dropped stiches everywhere," he paused, realizing that remarking upon the doilies within their prison wouldn't do much to alleviate his twin's oppressive gloom with regards to the situation, and decided to top it all off with a philosophical quandary in a last-ditch attempt to get the conversation back on track, or rather off-track as the purpose of his speaking in the first place was to distract his brother. "Do you suppose we are controlled by free will or destiny? Personally, I find the notion that my own decisions led me to this unfortunate point…disturbing."

The look Jimmy was currently giving him could not have been more incredulous had Castiel's head decided to remove itself from his body then walk off under its own power.

Castiel furrowed his brow, "I am not particularly skilled at 'taking one's mind off of things', am I?"

"No, not really," Jimmy told him, shaking his head and obviously resisting the urge to smile at his twin.

"Are most humans?"

"Are most humans what?"

"Skilled at 'taking others' minds off of things'? As it is, I believe my skill set is more inclined towards taking others' heads off of their bodies rather than the more metaphorical interpretation of the phrase. My kind are supposed to be the warriors of God, after all."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Just…yes, Castiel." Jimmy was shaking his head wearily, shoulders shivering with the suppressed urge to laugh.

Castiel looked down at the demolished doily in his hands, shoulders a bit hunched as he furrowed his brow even harder. Jimmy reached over and ruffled his twin's hair before sliding down the wall to sit next to him on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.

Suddenly, with a clatter of keys and a rattle of voices, the door to the hitherto-deserted station popped open. Castiel and Jimmy's heads swiveled around to eye the doorway, expecting to see Sheriff Danish returning from his coffee break. Instead, they were treated to a full parade of Bunker law enforcement (all three officers) plus a male, teenaged prisoner. A male teenaged prisoner who seemed to be busy digging himself his own metaphorical grave the longer he spoke to the sheriff.

"I'm just saying, 'Sheriff Danish' is a pretty funny name. it's like you just decided you were going to be 'Sheriff Donut'. Pretty lame, dude."

"Dean Winchester, show some respect, your mouth and your inability to drive the speed limit is what landed you here!" snapped one of the Deputies.

"Maybe some time in the holding cell will cool you off," the other Deputy sneered.

"Play nice with the other prisoners," Sheriff Danish told Dean sternly before settling back down at his desk, armed with a magazine and a oddly conversation-appropriate glazed donut.

"Aye, aye, Sheriff Donut," Dean said with an awkward half-salute.

"Toss him in until his mother comes," the sheriff said airily, already buried behind the magazine.

"Yes, sir," Deputy 1 responded with an officious bob of the head before grabbing Dean's shoulder and steering him over to the holding cell where Castiel and Jimmy were sitting on the floor.

As soon as he was pushed through the doorway, Dean scanned the two Novaks and grinned a grin powerful enough to light Bunker for a good solid year. "You guys _are _twins! Yes! Sammy so owes me ten bucks."

Jimmy and Castiel exchanged a glance. This was going to be a long afternoon.

**Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for all your support, guys! I hope you keep reading and enjoying this fic. Just to be clear, Sheriff Danish and the Deputies are OCs (I'll admit, Sheriff Danish's name was mostly there just for Dean to make that donut-joke…) **

**And none of the boys are actually under arrest. Cas and Jimmy got sucked into a Gabriel-designed prank and are just being held until a parent can pick them up. Dean just got caught speeding and being sassy to the Deputies. **

**If you read please review! I want to her what you have to say!**

**See ya next chapter, I'll try to update soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mary Winchester wished that driving to the police station to pick up Dean was a less common occurrence. She wasn't sure what drove (no pun intended) that boy to consistently and flagrantly violate traffic law but as a motivation (whatever it actually was) it seemed to be powerful indeed. This was the third time this year that Mary had to go to the station to convince Sheriff Danish to let Dean go with a traffic ticket and a warning. She wasn't sure why the oldest Winchester boy had to keep mouthing off to the Deputies, but it appeared to be a deeply ingrained urge indeed.

"Mom, we were _fine, _there wasn't anyone on the road, it wasn't like we were going to run over old ladies or die in a fiery crash or anything," Sam, the ever-loyal younger sibling, was trying to justify his big brother's actions.

Mary wasn't having any of it, "Sam Winchester, whether or not _you _thought you were safe is not the issue. The issue is the fact that you were going fifteen miles over the speed limit and were recklessly endangering yourselves and anyone who happened to be on the road."

"If we're talking about reckless endangerment, I would like to point out that all risk was taken by consenting, cognizant adults-" that was her little lawyer, Sammy, arguing every point like he was in a courtroom instead of the passenger seat of his mom's car.

"_Sam Winchester_"

"Yes ma'am. I'll stop now," Sam sounded cowed but a smile was still sneaking around the edges of his mouth.

"Good," Mary peered at him out of the corner of her eye and gave him the tiniest of smiles to show she wasn't all that mad at him.

There was a pause, "You know Dean would never really do anything to put me or Adam at risk, right?"

"That's a lie!" little Adam protested from the backseat, "Dean tried to get me to ring The Doorbell yesterday!"

"Adam," Sam said patiently, "You do realize that the Novaks aren't ghouls, right?"

"That's just what you say," Adam grumbled, "I still think they're ghouls. They're too mysterious."

"Adam, that's enough, you could really hurt someone's feelings if you keep saying they're a ghoul when you have no proof that they're actually eating people," Mary chastised the youngest Winchester, "And Sam, what have I said about having the last word?"

"That I don't always have to have the last word?" Sam hazarded a guess.

"Bingo, kiddo."

"Okay."

There was a short pause, "But I do know that Dean is a very good big brother. He would never let you or Adam get hurt."

"Good, I was just making sure," Sam sounded a bit comforted that their mother actually did have faith in his older brother.

"Although that doesn't mean he's not grounded for the rest of the summer."

Sam winced, "Mom, he'll go stir-crazy!"

She shrugged, "He should have thought about that before he went tearing down the highway at top speed."

Sam made a face, "I have to keep Dean entertained _all summer. _I'm dead, I'm so dead."

Mary sighed and shook her head at Sam's melodramatics, pulling into the police station parking lot. "Come on, boys, let's go get your big brother."

"Is Dean in trouble again?" Adam asked.

"Yes," Mary and Sam sighed at the same time.

…

Mary had come to expect very little from the Bunker police station as far as change went. The most interesting thing to happen to the Bunker law enforcement headquarters in over a year had been The Great Desk Move in which Sheriff Danish moved his desk farther away from the holding cell and its doily disaster and all the other office furniture was forced to relocate accordingly. Mary Winchester typically expected a generally low level of monotonous activity brewing in the station. Nothing too exciting, nothing too strenuous. Safe, perfect, monotony.

She did _not _expect the peculiar breed of chaos that greeted her. Nor did she expect it to be named Gabriel Novak and currently engaged in a grandiose verbal battle with one of the deputies.

"Honest to God and whatever deity floats your boat, buddy, my brothers haven't committed any crimes!"

"There was a call from a concerned neighbor-"

"Concerned neighbor?! Concerned about what?!"

"Your brothers were apparently vandalizing private property and disturbing the peace."

"_Vandalizing what?! _What exactly is there in this town worth vandalizing?_"_

"Your neighbors' roof."

"Wha-, um, urgh! THAT WAS NOT VANDALISIM! It was cheese spray and fireworks! The raccoon was mildly unintentional!"

"There was destruction of property…"

"It all washes out! Well, except for the raccoon, but I already said that was unintentional."

"I'll remember that in case I ever need to wash out any unintended raccoons," the Deputy deadpanned, apparently at a loss as to what to say next.

The short teen grabbed the counter and leaned forward, pulling his feet ever-so-slightly off the ground, "Stop saying nonsense, it doesn't suit you."

"What?"

The teen dropped back onto his feet, releasing the countertop and unwrapping a lollipop, sticking the sweet in his mouth, chomping on the confection as he explained, "See, conversations only work if only _one _person is saying nonsense at a time. Seeing as I claimed role of 'nonsense speaker' long ago, and the position is a relatively permanent one…well…sorry, but you're stuck making sense right now. Tough luck, buddy, but I'm not nearly as funny as I could be when _everyone _is busy being crazy. I like to be a novelty, you see." He grinned a grin large enough to swallow his entire face in its enormity.

The Deputy blinked three times in rapid succession. Then he closed his eyes for a good three seconds before snapping the lids back open to eyeball the young man in front of him once more. The look on the Deputy's face could best be described as massively disappointed when he realized that the annoying and moderately nonsensical boy had not, in fact, conveniently disappeared in the time his eyes were closed. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't release your brothers."

"Why not?" the short, fair-haired young man looked and sounded affronted.

"Your driver's license says you're 17. We can't release prisoners to anyone but a legal adult."

"They're not even criminals! Since when does criminal law apply to teenage pranksters?"

"We can't release your brothers to your…dubious care. You should call your parents and have them pick Mr. Novak and Mr. Novak up." The Deputy appeared completely unaware just how stupid it sounded for him to call them by their lasts names when they were siblings.

"Our parents are out of town, please let me take my brothers home."

Mary's heart squeezed sympathetically for the young man who was clearly trying his best to do right for his younger brothers. Even if his 'best' was extremely irreverent and fairly disrespectful to the Deputy. She was about to say something when Sam nudged her. "That guy's one of the Novaks next door," the boy muttered.

"One of the of the-" Adam began.

"Don't say 'ghouls'," Sam advised his younger sibling.

"Fine, I'll just think it really hard," Adam pouted at being ignored and scrunched up his face like he was trying his best to shove the suspicion at Sam.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was still arguing with the Deputy. "But, seriously, they're little _angels,_ they couldn't misbehave if they wanted to."

Suddenly a roaring shout was heard from the back of the station.

"Ligretto!"

"Agh, dammit, Cas, why the hell do you have all the luck?!"

"I knew I should have eaten you in the womb!"

"I believe the term is 'pay up, female dogs'."

"Bitches, Cas, it's _bitches._"

"Synonyms do not work in this context, Dean?"

"Nooo."

"Well, if both of you seem so sure about it…pay up, _bitches._"

"Just stick to not swearing."

"But Dean, I was getting the hang of it…"

"Dean, he's been my twin for fifteen years, trust me, just let it be."

"Is anyone interested in another round?"

"Hell yes!"

Another round of shouting and swearing followed, extending for about five minutes, punctuated by periodic cries of 'Pling!'. Finally, Dean's voice was heard above all of the others'.

"LIGRETTO!"

"God dammit!" snarled one voice.

"I echo your sentiments," agreed a second one wryly.

Back in the lobby Gabriel was laughing so hard Sam seriously worried that he might strain a muscle. "I never…" the teen gasped and wheezed, trying to get his breath back, "…should have…" more wheezing and chuckling, "…introduced them to that German card game…" his laughter never seemed to end, "…I've created monsters!" This was all topped off with even more spasmodic laughter.

"German card game? I want to play!" Sam declared, skirting his mother's legs and the Deputy's desk and darting back to the holding cell, calling "Deal me in!" as he went.

Adam trailed after his big brother, "I wanna play too!"

Mary resisted the urge to laugh as she watched the second Deputy scamper to try and prevent Sam and Adam from joining their brother and his newfound friends at 'Ligretto'. Instead she schooled her features into a more professional, sterner mask and approached the desk, "Hi, Deputy Deputy," the cheerful grin on the Deputy's face let her know that she had gotten the last name right and this was the one who was named after his job rather than the one whose last name no one could really remember so the residents of Bunker took to making up names for him. "Would it be possible for me to get Dean and his new friends out of the holding cell, this young man's my next door neighbor and we can take his brothers home with us."

"Uh, Mrs. Winchester, well, um, it was your roof that they…"

"Just let the boys out, I'll take them home."

"Yes ma'am."

Gabriel was staring at her with shining eyes, "You are a pie-scented goddess, Mrs. Winchester. A pie-scented _goddess._"

"You're welcome," Mary replied, smiling fondly as a pair of dark haired boys (they had to be identical twins) greeted their brother. She might like getting to know these neighbors. They seemed normal enough…

**Author's Note: So, a friend of mine recently introduced me to Ligretto, a fast-paced, intensely competitive card game. She told me that it was German originally, I know very little about it beyond how to play so I just trusted her information. (Just in case you were wondering where the cards came from, Cas' trenchcoat has something of a never-ending pocket thing going on allowing him to have random cool stuff no matter where he goes). I thought it would be hilarious to have some characters bet on Ligretto and play in jail. **

**I hope you enjoyed this little transition chapter, thanks for your support and please, please, please REVIEW! I love reviews! **

**See ya next chapter! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Author's Note: Hi guys, I promise this will be short, just an explanation for something in this chapter and a quick thank-you to Infinitechange for reviewing! First, the explanation: in this chapter there are some guest stars from a different fandom who make quick cameos in the Supernatural AU. See if you can find them! **

**Second, the awesome review from Infinitechange! Infinitechange, your review registered as a 'guest review' so I thought I'd respond to it here in the author's note just in case you were a different Infinitechange than the one with a account who reviewed chapter 2. So, thanks so much for reviewing, I was definitely going for fun and cute with chapter 3 so I'm glad it came across that way! And Ligretto is an awesome game, I totally recommend it! **

* * *

A few days later the town of Bunker, not to mention the small neighborhood of Nevaeh Drive, had failed to completely recover from the 'jail incident'. Honestly, it wouldn't have been that big of a deal if it hadn't been for the Novaks' involvement. Dean Winchester was a chronic speeder who popped in and out of the police station as easily as breathing. One more speeding ticket for Dean Winchester did not make front page news. However, the arrest (or at least detainment) of two of the new neighbors, was, in fact, front page news. And the topic of dinner conversations for most of the homes within a five mile radius of 66 Nevaeh Drive. Little did the angelic family suspect, but in towns as small as Bunker, one's family reputation was made or broken in the first few weeks after they moved in. And right now theirs was not looking too hot. Up until the 'jail incident' they were on the fast track to being labeled: 'boring enough to safely ignore and superficially socialize with at the neighborhood picnics and Christmas parties'. Now they were drifting along in the dangerous zone of: 'interesting enough to gossip about and actively attempt to pump for more grist for the very active town rumor mill'.

Each of the Novak children reacted to their neighbors' renewed curiosity differently. Gabriel found it hilarious and did everything he could to spark increasingly outrageous rumors about himself and his relatives. Meanwhile, a mortified Jimmy did his best to squash the Gabriel-gossip and tried to be as 'normal' as possible. This included getting a summer job, an activity so similar to what any ordinary, upright citizen would do that Gabriel was automatically suspicious. This led to Anna's method of coping with all the attention. She allowed Gabriel to set her on 'stake-out duty' at Jimmy's work to make sure it wasn't 'shady'. It wasn't, Jimmy was a clerk at a local used bookstore, a job so un-fraught with danger it was in peril of being _relaxing;_ something the workplace should never be. So, instead of real stakeout, Anna passed her days feasting on smoothies from the diner across the street and helping her big brother shelve books.

Meanwhile, the middle Novak child retreated to the backyard and began to raise his own bee colony.

Yes, bees.

In the backyard.

Hardly the most well-thought-out plan of action. Then again, Castiel's angelic presence was generally enough to soothe the little creatures into docility, so the chances of anyone in the Novak household actually getting stung were very low. But still, Jimmy found his twin's profound bond with his beehives more than a little disconcerting.

Not that he would ever _dream _of telling Castiel that. No, Jimmy's main concern was not the fact that his twin was raising bees. It was that his twin was using raising bees as an excuse not to spend any time with any other living creature. It was understandable, really. The jail thing had sparked off a chain reaction in the neighborhood, leading everyone and their mother to attempt to satisfy their apparently insatiable curiosity about the whole thing through pestering any available Novak on the issue. And Castiel had never been the most social of creatures, so he protected himself from others' prying by maintaining three hives' worth of attack-bees, or at least what _looked _like attack-bees to the naked eye.

It all made a kind of sense to Jimmy. That didn't mean he didn't worry about his brother. He wanted him to have at least _one _friend when they started school next month. At least Jimmy could comfort himself that the neighborhood picnic was coming up. Maybe by then the buzz over the 'jail-thing' would have died down and Castiel might be a bit more tempted to leave Bee-land.

God, Jimmy hoped so.

* * *

"We should invite them over for dinner."

All male Winchester heads swiveled in unison to gape at Mrs. Winchester in shock and awe. Well, all male Winchester heads except for Sam. He was too busy burying his nose in a book thick enough to pose as a dictionary to properly participate in the group-outrage currently circulating around their breakfast table. That was, until Dean kindly removed the tome from his protesting fingers, grabbed Sam's head with one hand and turned it towards their mother, allowing Sammy to endure the joy of unified surprise. Needless to say, Sammy did not find staring at Mary with shock and outrage nearly as interesting as the novel his older brother had liberated from his clutches.

Adam was the first to break the silence. Mostly because he was the youngest and didn't really know the rules about shocked silences. "But we never have people over for dinner, Mom. Never. Never _ever._"

"I don't think one time will hurt anything…" Mary hedged.

"Mom, have you lost your mind?" Dean burst out before Sam had a chance to shush him, "Do you remember the last time we had people over?"

"No," Adam helpfully answered, "That was my point."

"I was five, Sam was a baby, it was Mr. and Mrs. Henessey and they were possessed. It did not end well."

"Your father and I had it under control…"

"Why do I miss out on all the fun?" Adam complained.

"This is ridiculous," muttered Sam, absentmindedly trying to figure out where Dean threw his book.

That last statement from the middle Winchester seemed to be enough to shock John out of his startled reverie. "Mary, who are you trying to invite over for dinner?"

"Glad you could join us, Dad," Dean said sarcastically.

"Dean, be respectful to your father."

"Yes, Mom."

Mary turned her attention back to her husband, "John, I was thinking of inviting those Novak kids over for dinner. Their parents are out of town and they seem like such nice kids."

"My friends say they're weird," Adam whispered conspiratorially to Sam.

Sam shrugged, not really paying attention to the conversation. He had a book to find.

Mary, being a mother and therefore knowing everything, eyed Adam reproachfully, "Adam, don't say mean things about our neighbors."

"But they're weird!" the little boy protested, "Anyone can tell you that!"

"Adam," Mary's voice clearly told him not to push it.

Sam sighed, apparently his family was dead set on having this conversation at the breakfast table when he could be reading. "There was the thing with the raccoon and the cheeze whiz…"

Dean snorted. Sam and his parents looked at him with varying levels of reproach. "What? It was kind of funny."

"That…business aside," Mary was back on track, "They seem like good kids deep down and they must be lonely."

"There's four of them, how lonely can they be?" John remained unconvinced.

"I still think we should invite them to dinner."

"They could be demons, Mary!"

"They're not," Dean piped in.

"What?" both of his parents looked at him in surprise.

Dean shrugged, "I was in a doily-covered prison cell with them. Duh, I checked them for demon-ness and other gross-ass monster problems."

"So they're not ghouls?" Adam perked up.

"No, buddy, they're not ghouls."

"See?" Mary was victorious, "They're not evil."

"I don't trust them," John grumbled.

"Trust them or not, they're coming to dinner on Saturday," Mary proclaimed.

John blinked, wondering how the _hell _he had managed to lose an argument before he truly realized they were having one.

* * *

Jimmy did not like answering his cell phone at work. Mostly because his boss, a soft-spoken British gentleman who went by Mr. A. Ziraphale had something of a phobia of technology. He never fully explained it to Jimmy, just muttered things about trapping Princes of Hell in answering machines and why that was why you didn't make friends with demons. Luckily that day a friend of Mr. A's had dropped by and absconded with the poor fellow. Well, less absconded and more just wandered in, said something about a Bentley then wandered out, snakeskin shoes (Jimmy _hoped _they were shoes and not the man's actual feet) tapping against the hardwood floor. Mr. A had followed after the black-suited chap, muttering about demons and how they couldn't be relied upon to deal with their own car troubles.

He had then proceeded to leave Jimmy Novak alone in the store for an entire afternoon. Now, if Jimmy were his older brother Gabriel, Mr. A might have had something to worry about. But Jimmy was Jimmy and, outside of the influence of his brother, his twin, the occasional life of death situation or all of the above, was not prone to misbehaving. Instead, it shaped up to be a rather ordinary sort of summer afternoon.

Until the phone rang.

Jimmy glanced at the device, almost affronted that it had violated the tranquility of the moment, but after the fourth ring, decided that he had better get it just in case Gabriel had blown something up, Castiel had crashed (he was a determined, if not particularly skilled flier) or demons were attacking.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" Castiel echoed his greeting. It was a bit eerie. And muffled…that was odd.

_"Castiel, that is not how you use an iPhone!" _Gabriel's voice rang out from somewhere off in the distance on the other end of the line.

"What is wrong with how I am handling this device?"

_"It's upside down for one thing!" _

"It is hardly my fault the right side was not labeled."

"Can I interject here?" Jimmy asked tentatively.

_"Castiel, just give me the phone!" _Gabriel demanded.

"No," Castiel refused, sounded a bit irked, but luckily less muffled, "There, am I holding it correctly now?"

_"Yes," _Gabriel grumbled, _"How do you not know this much about technology?!" _

"I never bothered to learn, it seemed unimportant in the larger picture of life."

_"You have waaay too much dignity for a fifteen-year-old-fledgling. Live a little!" _

Jimmy did not want to hear this old argument rehashed for his listening pleasure. "Is there a reason you called me at work, guys?"

"Yes." Castiel said the words so gravely; if Jimmy didn't know better he would have thought someone had died.

"Okay…what is it?"

He could practically _see_ the slightly perplexed look on his twin's face as he thought about what he was trying to communicate, "We have been invited to dinner. By the Winchesters. I do not know what to make of this turn of events."

Jimmy sighed. "When?"

"This Saturday."

"TOMORROW?!"

"Yes." It went unsaid, but Jimmy could almost _hear _the mildly sarcastic subtext of 'Jimmy, bro, try to keep up.' It was the closest Castiel really got to friendly teasing.

Jimmy sighed and ran his fingers through his ruffled dark hair. "Seeing as I'm the only one who can cook I assume I'll be the one bringing the side dish?" Great, another thing to worry about.

"I can cook."

_"Lying is a sin, Cassie! A SIN!" _

"Gabriel, please stop flailing like that, it is somewhat disturbing to watch."

_"Don't let him" cook, Jimmy! Do the right thing!" _

"I can cook," Castiel reaffirmed his earlier statement.

Jimmy sighed and let his siblings bicker for a few more moments. They were both right. Castiel _could _cook. However every time he attempted it something terrible happened. Something caught on fire, the microwave spontaneously combusted (despite the fact that he was only using the oven), the sink took on a mind of its own and soaked everyone and everything…the list went on and on. So, despite the fact that two out of three of Castiel's attempts at the culinary arts were edible, it was universally agreed that the middle Novak was banned from the kitchen except for cases of extreme emergency.

Finally, Jimmy had had enough, "I WILL COOK!" he bellowed.

That shut both of the other two up.

"When do they want us over there?" Jimmy sighed, relieved to have regained peace and quiet.

"Six,"Castiel supplied.

"Good, that gives me plenty of time to make something before I leave for work that afternoon. You two are banned from the kitchen until then, got it?"

"Yes."

_"Does that mean…"_

"You too, Gabriel, you too." And then Jimmy hung up the phone. He ran a hand over his face and sighed. It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.

**Author's Note: Hi! I've been really sick and I'm still sick as I write this chapter so please forgive me if it seems a little off. For any of you who were wondering, our special guest cross-over cameo stars were Aziraphale and Crowley from 'Good Omens'. I seriously love that book. So yeah… they won't be staying in the story, no will they be active characters, but when my buddy Estel Caprice (who has helped me make this AU) suggested that Jimmy work at a used bookstore we couldn't resist mentioning Mr. A. Ziraphale. I, of course do not own 'Good Omens', I just wanted to throw a short mention of some fun crossover stuff into this already slightly weird fic. They will be going away next chapter. I still hope you enjoyed! **

**PLEASE REVIEW, your reviews make my day! **

**See ya next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Jimmy looked _disapproving._ He raked his sharp blue eyes over his assembled siblings, scanning the kitchen with that crystal-clear laser gaze of his.

"Do I want to know what happened?" he asked, voice clearly proclaiming that is he _didn't _find out what happened in the next five minutes some of the other Novaks (*cough, cough* _GABRIEL, _*cough, cough*) would be losing some non-vital organs.

"It's kind of a funny story…" Gabriel began, trying his damnedest to look contrite.

If Jimmy Novak were Queen Victoria, this would be the moment in which Her Majesty proclaimed herself to be 'not amused'. If Jimmy Novak were Blackbeard the pirate this would be the moment where some obnoxious older brothers were impaled on their own swords. Really, if Jimmy Novak were any person other than himself this would be the moment where serious violence would be occurring. Luckily for the rest of the Novak family, Jimmy did not have homicidal tendencies. Most of the time. This last disaster might just push him over the edge.

There was a tense moment in which Jimmy glared menacingly, Anna shifted guiltily and Gabriel looked bored and more than a little shifty. They might have stayed in this stalemate for an unknown amount of never-ending time if the back door hadn't suddenly slammed. Everyone jumped, Anna sending a short burst of fear through her and Jimmy's psychic link, the elder Novak mentally reaching out to the disturbance to suss out its source. Castiel's bright presence burned quietly against the mental touch. Jimmy withdrew; glad it was just his twin. Everyone had been on edge since their parents left on their heavenly mission and sudden door-slamming tended to make everyone jump unnecessarily.

The soft tread of Castiel's feet on the carpet heralded his approach. When he reached the kitchen doorway he came to a dead stop, staring at the disaster before him and the three Novaks standing in the middle of it. Perplexed, the angel-child tipped his head to the side, brows furrowed as he eyed the mess.

"I do not believe that pasta belongs on light fixtures," was his only comment.

"I agree with Cassie!" Gabriel declared, as if that absolved him of guilt.

Jimmy gave his brother a _look. _It was not a nice _look. _No, this was the sort of _look _that warned of extreme bodily harm should the individual being _looked _at should continue to speak. Or breathe. Or really just exist. Yes, it was a 'I can and will punish you for daring to exist in my presence' sort of _look_.

"Jimmy, I suggest we no longer allow Gabriel to take charge of interior decorating. He apparently does not possess the necessary skill set."

Anna, having clearly seen which side was going to win this interaction, decided to side with them. "Yeah…cheese and tomato sauce don't really work as wallpaper."

Gabriel sighed melodramatically, "Everyone's a critic. I'll clean it up."

"Damn straight," Jimmy confirmed, eyes hard and uncompromising.

"What are we gonna take over to the Winchesters for dinner?" Anna asked, eying the kitchen as Gabriel began to magick away the lasagna-redecoration.

Jimmy ground his teeth. "I haven't a freaking clue."

"I could-" Castiel offered.

"NO!" three voices bellowed at once.

The silence that followed this declaration ran a bit too long for Gabriel's tastes (read: ran less than a minute). He did his duty as 'most interesting person in the house' and disrupted said disturbingly tame silence. "I could always whip something up…" he offered.

Jimmy face-palmed. Castiel gave a small, huffing sigh of resignation. Anna cheered. "Cake for dinner!"

It was going to be an _interesting _night.

* * *

"Holy water?"

"In all the drinks."

"Silver?"

"The boys set the table five minutes ago."

"Devil's trap?"

"Hidden by the living room rug."

"Really?"

"Yes, John, we are not leaving the Devil's Trap out for everyone to see. Talk about hard to explain."

"I thought it was a great idea. It drove off the last neighbor well enough," the eldest Winchester male grumbled.

"We are not trying to _drive off _the new neighbors," Mary sighed at her husband's silliness.

"Who said we weren't?"

"I did," Mary propped her fists on her hips. "Now, I know you weren't all that open to this idea, John, but they seem like such nice kids and the boys could use some friends their own ages."

"They've got each other," John argued, even though there wasn't much heat in his words. He knew Mary was right about this, she always was.

"You know I'm right, John Winchester, stop trying to pretend I'm not. It never works." She raised an eyebrow as if challenging him to argue with her.

John sighed and ran a hand down his face. "You're right," he groaned.

"But you wish I wasn't," Mary supplied.

He shrugged, "Well, yeah."

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Go and get washed up, our guests should be here soon."

* * *

Dean was flopped on his stomach, splayed across his bed, a comic book held loosely in his hand, fingers idly flipping through the pages. A small, soft knock on his door, followed by the sound of it being loudly thrown open woke him from his graphic-novel reverie. He dropped the comic on the floor and rolled over onto his back just in time for Sam to come trotting through the doorway, Adam trailing behind him like a lost puppy. Ah, Adam must have been the one to knock. Sam was always the one to just throw the door open. After all, he and Dean had shared a bedroom for years. Despite the fact that they had separate spaces now the cardinal rule of roommate-ship still applied: what's mine is yours, what's yours is mine and sharing is ridiculous. Despite the flaws in this obviously contradictory life motto, Sam and Dean still lived by it and so far hadn't managed piss each other off enough to spark a psychotic break.

"Adam has questions," Sam proclaimed before dropping into Dean's desk chair.

"What does one wear when one is meeting people one used to think were ghouls?" Adam asked with the kind of over-exaggerated formality only ever heard from little kids.

"Umm…clothes…?" Dean was perplexed as to why this was suddenly an issue pressing enough to require big brother help.

"Duh I'm going to wear clothes, I'm not a _nudist_!" Adam proclaimed, scandalized.

Dean shot a look at Sam and mouthed the word, _'nudist?'_.

Sam, unhelpful little bitch that he was, simply shrugged and mouthed back, _'I didn't teach it to him.' _

Dean sighed, "If you're asking about clothes, why don't you go find Mom? She knows more about that stuff than I do."

"But these are _apology _clothes, dummy. They're important."

"But everyone knows more about apologies than Dean does," Sam couldn't resist the zinger.

Dean shot his a nasty look, "bitch," he muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear.

"Jerk." Sam looked smug.

Dean groaned and ran a hand down his face. It didn't look like his little brothers were planning on leaving him in peace any time soon. "Fine," he sighed, "Clothes-advice it is. But for the record, this makes you a complete and total chick. Not even a tough chick like Jo, like a girly, Barbie-dream-house frilly kinda chick."

"Yeah, and what does that make you?" It was Adam's favorite comeback. He had recently discovered it, and like most small children faced with a new toy, had decided to use it for everything. Dean and Sam found it either annoying or hilarious depending on who it was directed at. Needless to say, Dean was very irritated right now and Sam was laughing so hard he ran a serious risk of falling off the bed.

It was going to be an _interesting _night.

* * *

Jimmy assembled the Novak children in the living room prior to making their way over to the Winchester house much the way a general assembles his or her troops before a battle.

"Remember, no wings, no unexplained miracles, no unplanned explosions-"

"Does that mean _planned _ones are all good?"

"Shut up, Gabe."

* * *

Mary assembled the Winchester boys in the living room minutes before the Novaks were scheduled to arrive. She scanned them over with a mother's critical eye, ready to catch any stray hairs, shifty looks, or concealed weapons.

"Remember, no talking about hunting, no threatening anyone with actual bodily harm-"

"Unless they're a demon, then you can gank those sons of bitches."

"John, language!"

"Yes, dear."

"And remember boys, violence is _not always the answer._"

* * *

Across the city, far away from the bustle of the Winchester and Novak households, one demon (who wasn't particularly demonic), and one angel (who was always completely angelic, no matter what that meddling demon might say), were sitting at a table at a diner, dunking fries in milkshakes.

"I do hope that Jimmy is having a good time at his little party tonight. Such a sweet boy."

"Boring," the demon grumbled fondly.

"Really, Crowley."

"Oh, come now, Aziraphale, the good ones always are."

"What?"

"Boring."

"Hmph."

"I never said you were boring angel, I don't think you're quite good enough to pull it off."

"Whatever makes you say that?" the slim blonde angel asked primly, readjusting his reading glasses.

"I saw what you helped Gabriel do to that lasagna."

"It was for a good cause. He had no idea I helped him, I was invisible the whole time." When his companion remained unconvinced Aziraphale huffed, "Family bonding is important."

"Of course it is, angel, of course it is," Crowley placated teasingly.

"Oh, hush, Crowley. You know the only reason you're in town is because you heard your brother was nearby."

"_Half-brother._ Little bastard stole my name and now he's King of Hell?! The nerve…"

"There, there, dear boy, there, there."

* * *

Back across town, blissfully unaware that the other, less-Bentley-loving, less-angel-befriending Crowley was nearby and growing nearer by the day, the Novaks trekked across the lawn, around fence and up to the front door of the infamous Winchester House.

Two sharp knocks on the door later, Mary opened it to see four young faces staring up at her.

There was a short moment of almost-silence in which everyone stared at everyone else and wondered who was supposed to speak now.

"Hello." Castiel took it upon himself to begin introductions, seeing as no one else seemed likely to do so at the moment. "I believe we met in prison. My name is Castiel; this is my twin brother Jimmy, my sister Anna, my older brother Gabriel and the cake he baked for you. I hope it's not poisoned and I'm very sorry if it tastes like a rock covered in icing. I assure you he did put some effort into it. I'm not sure how much. But there was some. Effort, I mean."

"Holy shit, Cassie, that's the most I've heard you speak in days!" Gabe, ever irreverent, yelped.

Castiel gave him a withering glance, "Just because you do not speak bee does not mean that you can pretend I am mute or anti-social. I have many friends amongst the hive."

"Aaand apparently Castiel's part of the Borg now," Jimmy sighed, "Hello, Mrs. Winchester, I apologize in advance for any property damage incurred by my siblings. They are all completely insane."

If anything, Mary's smile widened. "It's so nice to meet you kids, come on in, I've almost got dinner done, it'll be just a few more minutes." If she maybe, kind of, probably muttered the word 'Christo' under her breath, the Novaks (who all came equipped with extremely sensitive hearing courtesy of their angelic parents) were polite enough to pretend not to notice.

She escorted them to the living room with a minimum of fuss and presented them to the man and boys seated there. Then she whirled away, off to the kitchen to finish of dinner, Gabriel's cake held securely under her elbow. A short repeat of the awkward staring silence first seen at the door presented itself.

It was broken unexpectedly by Adam blurting out, "I'm glad they're not ghouls, cuz Anna's kinda cute."

Things just got crazier from there.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hi guys! I know, I know, it's been forever since I've updated. February and March have been rough months for me. Ugh, real world life is hard. **

**Anywho! Look, a shiny new chapter! And yes, I know I promised that Aziraphale and Crowley wouldn't show up again but the muse spoke to me and everyone who reviewed last chapter seemed to like the brief cameo, so I decided to extend Aziraphale and Crowley's short appearance into this chapter. And yeah, I did make Good Omens' Crowley and Supernatural's Crowley half-brothers. It seemed to make a kind of twisted sense in this AU, and I needed to be able to explain why they have the same name. And no, I still don't own "Good Omens" or "Supernatural". I'm just a fan of awesome things.**

**So, up next there will be what I have started mentally referring to as 'The Dinner' in which our favorite Winchesters meet and befriend some Novaks. The chapter after that should be the beginning of the kids' school year…probably. I think. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Please review if you have the time, I love hearing form all of you!**

**See ya next chapter!**


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